


I Try to Picture Me Without You But I Can't

by thats_vexing



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, Skinny!Steve
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 06:27:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,052
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3346934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thats_vexing/pseuds/thats_vexing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Drabbles for two boys in love at college</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Just clearing out some old drabbles from my notes. Who doesn't want sneaking about in the library?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky just wants to finish his essay in peace.

The library's quiet, not too musty and overall, very brown but has the perfect studying conditions. Contrary to popular opinion, Bucky actually likes it here. He would study in his room, but more often than not nowadays there’s been a skinny blond lounging on his bed, sighing loudly and frequently if he doesn’t get enough attention. Not the he doesn’t mind lavishing said attention, but what Bucky needs to finish this damn essay is peace. He still can't concentrate.

The reason why is sitting across from him, currently chewing his pencil like he does when he knows Bucky is watching. There's not much written on Steve's page, but the blank spaces are filled with lazy sketches, the library's tall windows, a scruffy looking dog and - Bucky's face heats - a lively drawing of him. The second Steve looks up, Bucky looks down, back at his analysis of Mark Twain, or Tom Sawyer or whatever. He can feel Steve's gaze on him, his skin prickles with it.

So focussed is he at reading and rereading the same line of his essay, that when Steve's foot rubs subtly, but very purposefully up his pant leg, Bucky jumps. He stands quickly to cover the scrape of his chair and pretend he hadn’t just smashed his knee into the underside of the table. Very aware of the pairs of eyes following him, he nonchalantly strides to the bookshelves.

Once in the muffled maze and out of sight, he lets out the breath he was holding. It feels a little warm, and he desperately tries to loosen his tie. He'll just wait for a moment, come back with any old book, and make sure to give Steve a sharp kick under the table. The little bastard. Bucky’s going to fail his classes if Steve carries on like this… Or Bucky’s self-restraint doesn’t toughen up. He gets a couple of minutes quiet, before--

"This doesn't look like Mark Twain."

It's just a whisper, but Bucky jumps and he swears his heart actually stops.

"Steve, c'mon, I need a break sometime. And I really like..." He looks to the book in his hand, "Wuthering Heights."

"Uh huh," Steve knows he's bullshitting, from the first word that came out of his mouth. "That's great Buck, you're finally finding your soft side."

Bucky cuffs him around the head for his troubles and they grapple for a moment, between the dusty shelves of the library, keeping desperately quiet. Nothing louder than a scuff or heavy breath. Bucky nearly has Steve in a headlock - he might not be strong but man, his elbows are sharp - when Steve leans up and whispers "Mhmm, I like it."

Bucky freezes and Steve takes it as his cue to carry on. "You put on this bravado for everyone but I know," Bucky's grip grows lax and Steve takes every chance that Bucky's given him to press closer, and even though he’s a scrawny thing that needs at least three sweaters on to stay alive most days he seems to be radiating an intense heat. It gets under Bucky’s skin and he feels clammy. Breath ghosting against his ear, Steve’s voice is an appreciative mumble. "You actually give a damn about your grades, and," he plucks the book from Bucky's hands and drops it back onto the shelf, leaning close, "you don't actually read fancy romance books but you were scared by that movie we saw last week though you'd never admit it." The edge of the bookshelf is digging into Bucky's spine.

"It's kinda hot." Steve breathes and Bucky's protests have turned to sludge in his mouth. He can't get his brain to work and suddenly Steve closes the gap between their mouths and kisses him so intensely that Bucky has to catch ahold of the bookshelf to keep upright. Steve kisses the same way his approaches everything in life, with an aggressive need to prove himself and Bucky in his current state is powerless to do little more than stand there and take it. A soft sound at from the aisle behind him sends a cold wave through his veins because they’re in the library and anyone could find them like this and as horrified as he is, his traitorous body reacts by pulling Steve closer, the need keep the slighter boy flush against him overruling anything his brain has to say.

When they finally break apart, panting quietly against each other’s lips, Bucky’s sense oozes back into his brain, probably back from much further south. It’s a slow process, because Steve’s face is flushed and his hair’s been rubbed the wrong way and Bucky won’t even look at his lips because he’ll just spiral into that strange headspace where only the two of them exist in this very public library. (They’re cherry red. Just like after Steve bites his lip when he draws, but tenfold.) He tries to say something but it comes out as a garbled moan. Luckily or unluckily, Steve seals his mouth over his to swallow the noise and Bucky instantly forgets what he was complaining about. He’s smirking, the bastard. Bucky can feel it.

Suddenly, he’s two steps away, nose buried in a book he’s plucked from the shelf and belatedly Bucky realises why. By the time the librarian’s staggered footfalls pass their aisle, Bucky’s fallen into a casual vignette, slouched against the shelf, thumbing through Withering Heights. The fact that the book is carefully concealing his crotch it irrelevant. He’s proud of himself for not sliding to the floor into a puddle. Once her steps die away, he snaps his book shut and takes a breath but Steve shushes him immediately with a hand over his mouth. “Quiet in the library, remember?"

And then Steve is gone, strolling, no, sauntering back down the aisle towards his seat, pointedly not looking at Bucky. The little shit. He tries and fails to smooth out the imprint of Steve's fists from his shirt and stifles a groan. Steve may be gone, but it sure still feels stuffy in here. He may need a minute.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Snow = midnight mischief, doesn't it?

“Steve, it’s like two am, can’t this wait ’til morning?”

“Shh!” Steve takes ahold of Bucky’s arm and slips down the dark dormitory corridors. Bucky’s shoes are sound over his shoulder, laces knotted together. The tiled floor of the corridor is freezing, his socks useless against the chill. They slip around corners and past rooms upon rooms off sleeping students and it’s like they’re kids again, playing spies in Steve’s front room. They’re deathly silent but there’s a thrill of danger, the potential of being caught. It doesn’t stop Steve from chuckling a little bit when Bucky nearly loses his footing on the stairs.

They eventually make it to the little back door that’s only really ever used by housekeeping. It’s frosted up on each tiny window pane and beyond is totally black. Steve says nothing, and immediately cracks open the trunk by the door. Bucky would have sworn that thing was for tasteless decoration, except he’s being handed a sweater and scarf and gloves by Steve who fishes out similar apparel for himself and a flashlight. Bucky starts to put the clothing on and slipping on his shoes. It really is stupid how much he trusts the scrawny boy in front of him.

The sweater fits perfectly. “Wait a second, this is the one I lost…” It’s not so dark that he can’t see Steve’s smirk.

“Gotta take better care of your stuff, Buck.” He hisses, and finally pulls a key out of the trunk before gently lowering the lid.

“Where the hell’s that come from?” 

“I’ll give it back tomorrow, honest.” Steve unlocks the door and pushes Bucky through into the freezing night.

“Fuck, it’s cold!” Bucky says aloud, the snow muffling his voice. He watches as Steve drops the key under the mat and shuts the door with barely a click. Despite the temperature, the truth is that it’s beautiful out here. The untouched snow that had fallen that evening glitters in the beam of Steve’s flashlight.

“C’mon!” He takes Bucky’s gloved hand in his own and pulls him away from the college, out of sight of anyone who might be looking. They snigger and bumble though the snow. Before long Bucky’s pant legs are soaked through and his nose is numb. They can hardly see anything beyond the white expanse from the wandering light of the torch. it’s hardly surprising when Steve trips, taking Bucky down with him in a satisfying flump into the snow.

After a heartbeat Steve pipes up, “ew, it’s really damn cold.”

Bucky can’t help it, he laughs, big and loud and it makes him forget that it is really fucking cold and he’s absolutely going to regret this tomorrow. But when Steve joins in, his shivery chuckles turning into hoots of laughter, Bucky doesn’t really know what there is to regret.

“Make a snow angel with me, Buck.” Steve says, looking down his arm at where their hands are still joined. “Just like we used to.”

“We were, like, five when we did that!” Bucky barks, but one look at Steve’s face, he looks so sincere, even in the diverted torchlight that Bucky’s heart softens a little. He thinks he might always have a soft spot for Steve. “Fine, but I’m gonna make the best snow angel!” He cries and begins to flap his arms and legs. Steve doesn’t waste a second before furiously joining in.

As always, it’s a competition. And as always, it never really matters who wins. They’re both left panting and sweating despite the snow around them. The sky above is black and clear, and the longer Bucky looks the more stars he can make out. His breath ghosts out in front of him and everything is still and quiet. Until a handful of snow comes into contact with his face. He splutters and Steve’s unrestrained laughter breaks the silence.

“Rogers!” he growls, and tackles Steve before he can scramble away. He manages to pin him in the indent of Steve’s snow angel, and Steve doesn’t seem to care, laughing hot breaths onto Bucky’s numb face. “This ain't funny, I can’t let you get away with shit like this.” Bucky huffs.

“What’cha gonna do about it?” Steve challenges. His hair is a mess, his lips chapped from the cold, and as Bucky leans in, his tongue slips out and licks his lips. It’s all very inviting.

“I think…” Bucky breathes, “tickling may be in order!” He pins Steve’s legs under his own and sets to work, pinching and stroking up Steve’s far too skinny ribcage.

“Nah!” Steve tries to squirm away, but Bucky’s got him well and truly stuck in the snow, and all he can do is try to bat his hands away between giggles. “That’s lame, Buck!”

“Why?” Bucky leans closer again and gives Steve a light tickle under the chin. Steve whines and tries to curl up away from the touch. “Got something else in mind?”

“Yeah.” Steve bats his hands away and pulls Bucky down by the neck for a kiss. His hands are freezing but Steve’s mouth is hot and his lips are dry but it’s perfect. Bucky forgets how numb his hands and feet are for a moment. When they pull apart, Bucky peppers Steve’s face with kisses, along his nose and cheekbones, over his forehead, anything to get some heat back into his boyfriend.

“We should get you inside.” He says, and actually feels Steve ripple with disappointment.

“Wait,” Steve says, just moments short of his teeth chattering, “just a little longer.”

It isn’t for long that they lie together in the snow, Bucky covering Steve’s body with his own and nothing else but the snow and sky, but it’s long enough when Steve starts to shiver and Bucky decides its time to go in. They walk back to the college hand in hand and carefully let themselves back in.

The next morning when Bucky pulls open his curtains, the rooms around him are bussing with the excitement of snow. But off in the distance, he can see two snow angels lying wingtip to wingtip. A few rooms over, he knows Steve will be able to see them too. He smiles to himself and looks a little longer than necessary.


End file.
